


our troubles will be miles away

by StrangeHormones



Series: kinky christmas twenty-twenty [7]
Category: House of Wax (2005)
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Infidelity, Oral Sex, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeHormones/pseuds/StrangeHormones
Summary: bo sinclair x reader | blindfold; chained
Relationships: Bo Sinclair/Reader, Bo Sinclair/You, Vincent Sinclair/Reader, Vincent Sinclair/You
Series: kinky christmas twenty-twenty [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040285
Kudos: 12





	our troubles will be miles away

**Author's Note:**

> @horrorslashergirl, day fourteen. another special thank you to @quiveringdeer for another brilliant plot bunny

It ultimately isn’t that strange to wake up naked and cold, your world black from fabric tied around your eyes. There’s no point in trying to move, even if the cold metal wasn’t a bit tighter than usual, you would still know of its existence due to it almost always being there. Hands and wrists. And though you don’t quite remember the game that leads up to this moment, it doesn’t mean you hadn’t played one. The longer you stayed in Ambrose, the more fickle your memory became. The last thing you honestly remember was fightin’ with Bo. You’d been doing it often lately. Normally you kept to yourself when Vincent wasn’t around but he’d kept finding a reason to get in your face. You’d snapped, raising your voice in a way you only dared in the deepest throws with your questionable lover. He hadn’t backed down, if you had to be honest, remembering it now in the dark and quiet, he had seemed to like it when you pushed him. Then his first rose and it all goes a bit fuzzy after that. There’s the sound of boots to your left, which is odd, as is the satin softness beneath your back instead of the wood of the workbench. You’re just beginning to hone in on why it’s such a big deal the different sensations are important, wiping the last of the cobwebs from your slowly gathering mind, but it disappears when his lips collide with the ones between your legs.

It’s new, you should consider that it’s strange, but the tongue swirling around your clit suddenly fills your mind with pleasant static. No one’s ever decided to lavish that part of you with attention, not even Vincent, the sensation of it coming out of silence and darkness makes your body jolt. Fingers twisting in unfamiliar chains to ground yourself, forgotten when fingers grip each thigh, determined to bruise you. Mark you. It hits you full force why your memory stops there, it’s where you must’ve crumpled to the floor. Left to Bo’s mercy and it seemed he could think of nothing crueler than to punish every single one of you in such vastly different ways. There’s no point in fighting with your limbs, you’d learned long before this it was a futile effort. Which meant you should fight with your words, try to shut down your body, anything.

But this town had made you a slave to your baser desires. And right now there was a head between your legs, determined to make you cum, to prove a point. At least that’s what you managed to put together before he sucks the nub deeply into his mouth and makes you mewl. As long as you don’t think about it being him you can plead plausible deniability to yourself. But it doesn’t work because whether you like it or not, Bo’s a handsome man. It’s one of the hundreds things about him that bother you and the only one you can remember when he smirks against your slowly soaking lips.

“Knew you’d warm up to me eventually,” he grumbles from between your legs, “Lot more fun than I thought it’d be.”

His teasing traded for devouring you like a starving man does a steak. You’re hesitant to say it’s better, just that it’s different. It’s not about pushing you to the brink, making you beg, making you a crying mess of need. It’s proving he knows what you want, even though you think you don’t. It’s the same attitude that had lead to your fight in the kitchen, that had lead you here. And you’re trying to remember all the horrible thing he says to you because if you can’t forget it’s Bo you have to remember it’s him. But it’s so hard when you can’t see and a sensation you’ve never felt is gnawing at the edges of logical thought. Two fingers slip inside you, abandoning any sort of pretense and forcing what he wants out of you. What he wants you to know you want.

And you do. Fuck you really do. It’s never about you. It’s about survival, it’s about games and teasing. Reminding you that you’re alive because they let you live. You really didn’t want Bo to be the one to make you forget. You hadn’t wanted to be the pet for a serial killer either and yet here you were.

“Having a hard time there, pretty girl?” his sticky lips moving over your mound, his fingers make up for the loss, “You like Vinny enough,” your stomach, chin dropping to rest between your breasts, “And I’m the one that got all the pretty.”

Which is so fucked up, but what’s worse is when he yanks the scrap of fabric from your eyes, you think he might be right. Those lips you want to see between your own curled in a smirk, pillow lips, and cheeks slick with your own wetness, each scar adding some layer of destruction that makes you wonder how he might bring about yours. He curls his fingers, arched to hit just right, and you finally moan.

“That’s what I thought,” looking far too proud of himself.

You should be wary but it’s hard now that you see two blue orbs looking up at you while he greedily slurped at your clit. Short stop and a sudden drop had a much different meaning here. The obscene sound of his mouth, his fingers moving inside you, it all disappears beneath your moans. Your screams and the way the chains rattle. It makes you crumble, limbs falling limp, full of craving for another and another.

“Someone’s greedy,” he chuckles, chestnut curls plastered to his forehead, pupils blown, “You want more, girl?”

And you nod, because what else is there?


End file.
